


Futile Effort

by espioc



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Abuse, Starscream not being Starscream, Trauma, attempted redemption, megatron not understanding the consequence of his actions, mnemosurgury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-31 03:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12123621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espioc/pseuds/espioc
Summary: In attempting to help brain washed Cold Constructed bots in the timeline Megatron now calls home, he comes across the bot he never wanted to see again.But this Starscream is very different from the one he knows.NOT A SHIP FIC.





	1. Chapter 1

The battle was...well it was going. To use the word “well” would be an insult to their effort. The Council had released their newly formed soldiers, those born of the recently deceased Rung’s spark, and those born from the Matrix behind closed doors.  They were like drones, elite, efficient, but lacking any underlying skill in wit and thought. The council had made sure to leave them a shell upon formation, and dig through their processor and extract every ounce of personality. Some they let keep a little, locking away the rest so it wouldn’t be a bother but they could still lead a battle if necessary. 

Megatron almost felt insulted, fighting cold drones. That is what they were. Drones. Cold Constructed didn’t even come close to what these bots were. At least CC’s had a mind, some personality, and in some cases a bit of fire. Megatron knew that well enough, being a hybrid himself and working beside a venomous, brilliant, cold constructed bot for all of four million years. 

But no, none of these bots came close to that former second. Hell, they didn’t even come close to Skywarp, and he was a bent brained  _ idiot.  _ No, these bots were nothing, and it saddened Megatron. However, it also angered Megatron. He knew what CC’s were like, they had consisted of a majority of his following, the shoulders on which his movement was built on and held up by. 

Megatron tried to concentrate most of his attention on “Capture and Cure” efforts in which they injured the Cold bots and brought them back to the safe house for treatment. They were attempting to reverse the effects of the council's cruel mnemosurgery. These bots had had no choice. They were practically MTO’s, born to war. Unlike MTO’s they were not permitted to keep their thoughts. 

Megatron could not bring himself to destroy such a creature. 

“Pull back!” Megatron called. Despite not wanting to retreat they had what they came for. There was no use in risking more lives. 

“How many live bodies have we captured?” Megatron asked Clicker as they drew back. 

“About fifteen,” Clicker called over the cover fire. “All part of the air force.”

That was good. If they could get more air support on their side that would be fantastic.

That was, if they could fix the bots.  

Everyone retreated back to the safety of their city where they quickly filed into the large bunker they’d assembled below the surface. It was where many of the soldiers lived, and where many of the CC’s were kept and treated. It had been designed like a safe haven, unknown to everyone outside of city borders, and large enough to house the entire city if necessary. It was kept as clean as possible, and well lit. Even the cells where they kept the occasional prisoner were well kept with white walls and bright lights. 

Megatron remembered the feeling of sitting in a cramped, foul smelling cell with dim lighting and cruel guards. It was not anything he wanted his prisoners to experience. 

Clicker walked with Megatron through the halls of the facility, looking through the list of CC’s they’d captured during the raid. Most he had already met with and were in the process of being treated for their wounds.

Megatron did not agree with the use of Mnemosurgury, especially when used on a bot who did not know how to say “no.” Because of this reversing the damage done to the Cold Constructed bots required heavy therapy, and, occasionally, brain surgery. 

Reprogramming could be undone easily enough. Repressed personalities were harder to extract from the deep. It was easier to do if the bot in question already retained some level of self. In those cases it was like breaking someone from a trance. 

For others it was like trying to wake them from a coma. One can shake as hard as he likes but he still won’t get a response. 

“Do we have all of their designations?” Megatron inquired, taking the datapad and looking it over. They were on their way to the med-bay to meet the new arrivals. Megatron made it a point to individually talk and meet with every bot that came into their care. 

“Most. There is _ one  _ who refuses to tell us his designation.”

At this Megatron lifted a brow. “Refuse? As in actively? Verbally?” 

“That’s right. He was rather crude.”

That was rare. Rare meaning non-existent. Generally when they couldn’t get a designation it was because either the bot didn’t have one, or their right to speak had been taken away. 

Most leader bots, those given slightly more conscious than the rest, simply didn’t have one, and those who did were trained to repeat it when asked. For one to outright, verbally refuse, was a very good sign. 

“I’d like to meet him first,” Megatron declared, handing the data-pad back. “Is he in the med-bay with the rest?”

“Uh...no,” Clicker’s fingers thrummed against the back of the data-pad. “We had to put him in a cell.”

Megatron stopped short, turning sharply to his companion. “A cell!?” he raged. “How are we to establish a basis of trust if the first thing we do is throw him in a cell?”

“We  _ tried _ to treat him in the med-bay,” Clicker defended quickly. “But he was too hostile. We had to recite the shutdown code before working on his wounds. We put him into a cell to keep both himself and everyone else safe. You should know as well as I that we can’t risk harming a  _ single _ doctor.”

Megatron hummed on the matter. “Yes, I can see your point,” he muttered, though still not liking it. “Regardless, I’d still like to see him first.”

Clicker shrugged. “If you insist. But be warned, he has claws.”

Megatron smirked. “I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse. And I  _ know _ I’ve dealt with sharper claws.”

 

* * *

 

They soon arrived at the brig. Clicker lead Megatron all the way to the back, walking him past the other few prisoners that they held there. 

“Why was he put so far away?” Megatron asked. 

“It was our biggest cell. We thought he’d be more comfortable.”

“Hm. Considering his frame type, I’m su-”

Megatron froze when they stepped before the cell. 

There, sitting crossed legged, carving vulgar phrases into the floor with his talon, was the last face Megatron ever hoped to see in this timeline. 

“Starscream,” he practically growled. 

Clicker looked between the two. “You know him?”

Megatron would know that face anywhere. “In a way,” he muttered, his gaze never wavering. 

Starscream scowled at him from behind the bars. It was such a familiar scowl, one Megatron had enough images of in is databanks to fill a data-pad. Or a dozen. 

Starscream abandoned his etching for a moment and replaced his hands on his knees. Lithe claws tapped steadily against his armor. For a moment he eyed Megatron. Megatron could tell the seeker was thinking, probably wondering how this stranger knew his designation, but reluctant to ask as that would reveal that Megatron was right. 

“Ask him,” Megatron instructed. “Ask him his name.”

Clicker stepped to the bars. “Seeker. What is your designation?”

“Shove it up your exhaust pipe,” was the immediate response. 

Clicker looked back to Megatron. “Are you sure this is the bot you knew?”

“Oh, I’m sure. More so now than ever.”

“Why do you suppose he’s so different?”

“Because to make him anything less than what he was constructed as would be a  _ serious  _ waste,” Megatron crossed his arms. “I just wonder how they managed to keep him in line.”

Clicker turned his attention back to the data pad. “From what we found on the medical scan his processor has gone through  _ extensive _ mnemosurgery. Not only that, but his frame has a lot of wear from wounds, old and new,” he looked to Megatron. “And it’s not all from battle.”

Megatron listened carefully. The wear was visible on Starscream’s frame. It was riddled with a slew of scars and dents that hadn’t quite healed. It almost saddened Megatron. This Starscream couldn’t be more than a fifty years old, if he was even that. 

Then Megatron remembered this was  _ Starscream _ and all the pity he might’ve had for the bot before him went right out the window. Whatever punishment that bot was getting was probably deserved. 

Megatron scowled back at the creature. “Let him rot in there,” he dictated, turning to leave. “The last thing we need right now is a Starscream.”

Clicker narrowed his eyes at Megatron’s back. 

“May I remind you, Megatron, that  _ this _ Starscream is not  _ you’re _ Starscream.”

Megatron stopped short, turning his head over his shoulder. “I have serious  _ doubts _ this Starscream is so different.”

Clicker crossed his arms. “But you don’t _ know _ . For all you know everything he is is a result of mnemosurgery.”

Megatron turned partially to the bot. “I  _ truly _ do  _ not _ believe that.” 

“Megatron,” Clicker said sternly. “Maybe don’t let him out of his cell just yet because he  _ is  _ dangerous. But he  _ does _ deserve the same treatment as everyone else.” 

“The therapist brave enough to step into an enclosed space with that beast deserves an award of the highest regard,” Megatron turned fully to the bot. “But I would never ask any of our workers to risk their life like that.” 

“So, what? He’s going to sit in a cell for the rest of his life? Like some caged animal?”

“He’s a  _ prisoner _ .”

“Then why is no one else?”

Megatron didn’t seem to get what Clicker wasn’t understanding.

“Because this is  _ Starscream _ ,” Megatron insisted. 

“Yes, and Dirge was Dirge, and Ramjet was Ramjet, and Skywarp was Skywarp.”

“ _ This  _ is  _ Starscream _ .”

“You say that like it means something.”

Megatron huffed a throaty sigh. “ _ Fine _ ,” he spat. “You can try speaking to him if you feel so inclined, but I’ll have no part in that harpy’s “recovery”.” 

With that Megatron stormed from the brig, desperate to get as far away from the mirror of his former second as possible. 

What he needed to do was calm down. The sight of that treacherous face always sent a seer of hatred and anger through his spark that only the joy of seeing Starscream suffer could smother. The last thing Megatron needed right now was to fall into old habits. 

And if there was one person who was sure to trigger that in him it was Starscream. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone knows all of the doppelgangers are intentionally drastically different.

It was two weeks before Megatron saw Starscream again. This time it was while he was being moved into a real hab-suite like one the rest of the residents used. The seeker was unconscious and being carried by one of the larger mechs in the facility. 

Megatron lifted a brow. “Do you have to knock him out every time you move him?” he asked Clicker who was leading the bot. 

“Unfortunately yes,” Clicker answered. “We’re hoping giving him a hab-suite like everyone else will take an edge off.”

Megatron scoffed. “Nothing will  _ ever _ take the edge off that one.” he mumbled. 

“Again, Megatron,” Clicker sighed. “You can’t judge anyone here by who they are in your timeline,” he waved Starscream’s carrier across, indicating he should continue without him. “Maybe he’ll surprise you. We have made some progress with getting him to open up. He doesn’t say much, and he’s harder to work with than many of the others but we’re confident we’ll get through to him.”

“A million years of punishment didn’t get through that thick helm of his, I doubt a few years of mere therapy will.”

Clicker shrugged a shoulder. “Who knows what it will do. You never felt inclined to do anything not involving your fists, so maybe a better method would have served you,” there was a bit of condescendence in Clickers voice as he walked past. 

Megatron scowled at the bots back. Clicker knew nothing of Starscream now, but he’d see soon enough exactly what Megatron was talking about. 

 

* * *

 

Starscream was...difficult. 

Clicker didn’t want to be the damn bots shrink but no one else was up for the task and Megatron was right. Clicker couldn’t put one of their volunteers in with such a hostile bot and keep a clear conscious. So the job fell to Clicker. 

At first the sessions were done in Starscream’s cell before he was moved into a hab-suite and locked in. Starscream was bound by the wrists to a chair during their sessions. It was the only way to keep him from tearing everyone’s eyes out. 

“Hello Starscream,” Clicker greeted the bot as he sat down in a chair across from the seeker. “How are you doing today?”

“Release me.”

“If we release your wrists will you attack me?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I won’t be doing that now, will I?” 

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Would you rather go back to the council?”

“No.”

“Tell me where you want to go Starscream.”

Starscream didn’t respond. 

Clicker waited with more patience than he probably had. 

Still, Starscream didn’t answer. 

“I can’t help you if you won’t answer me Starscream,” Clicker said softly, trying to keep the tension in the room low. The bot before him, like many of the patience, didn’t do well under pressure. They were prone, especially during the reversal process, to panic and anxiety attacks. 

These bots had been conditioned to suppress and ignore any memories of abuse or pain so when something in their processor was unlocked and it all came rushing back they tended to react in an extreme way. Starscream, in the two weeks they’d been treating him, had not yet broken down in the way most of the bots with a mind did. Instead he sat cold and stoic. His eyes were dull and void of life. His speech was drone like, but the venom still stung. 

“Where do you want to go, Starscream?” Clicker finally asked, tired of waiting for an answer. 

“Who is that gray bot?”

“Megatron?” the mention of the leader surprised Clicker. “He’s one of the leaders of the resistance. Why? Have you met him?”

“No.”

“Why do you ask?”

“He knew my name.”

“Oh, Right,” that made sense. “I get it now. Megatron is from an alternate time line. One where you and he were part of the same team. He knew your counterpart well, apparently, his Starscream was the second of an entire army. Not unlike you, in some ways, you lead the Seekers, correct?”

Something in Starscream’s demeanor seemed to change. He sat up straighter and stiffened, his eyes widened slightly before he rattled off. “I am Air Commander of the Seekers, fiercest warriors to ever grace the planet surface, damned by Primus and destine for the pits. We are not accepted by Primus. He looks down upon us, as he should, for we are inferior to those born from the planet’s surface.” as soon as he was done speaking he fell back into his normal self, slumping as though someone had just punched him in the stomach. Starscream blinked a few times before shaking his head, as if trying to shake away the thoughts. 

Clicker noted the behavior. It appeared as though that response was something that had been programmed into his processor, activated by the mention of his leadership role. It was the most words he’d ever said at once. 

“Megatron’s Starscream had big ideas,” Clicker mentioned. “They often got him into trouble. Do you have any aspirations, Starscream?”

Starscream’s expression dimmed. It was the most expression Clicker had seen in two weeks. 

“I want out of these,” he tugged on the straps holding his wrists. 

“Do you want to be set free?”

“No.”

That was interesting. Certainly different. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll hurt people.”

Clicker lifted a brow. “Do you...not like hurting people?”

“No.”

“So you  _ do _ like hurting people?”

“No.”

This was going nowhere. Clicker decided to change the question. “Why do you like hurting people?”

“I don’t like hurting people who haven’t wronged me.”

“I can safely assume the council has forced you to hurt people who haven’t wronged you,” it was a statement, not a question. 

Starscream didn’t reply. Clicker jotted a few more notes down before clicking off the datapad and standing up. “I think we’ll be done for the day,” he determined. “Someone will be around to let you loose in a moment.”

As he walked out Clicker took a good look at the etchings on the wall. Starscream had only been in this room for two days and he had already decorated the walls with a slew of words. Most vulgar. Some seemingly random. Clicker had recorded most but every time he came in new words had been added to the horde. 

In the two weeks Starscream had been in the cell he’d managed to fill nearly every inch of the wall with words. Clicker had taken note of those as well. Again, it was mostly vulgar statements. Nothing really comprehensible. 

 

* * *

 

“Why don’t you try introducing him to Skywarp,” Megatron mumbled noncommittally over his cube. For some reason Clicker insisted upon talking to him about Starscream’s progress. It was probably some futile effort to get Megatron to warm up to the Seeker. It only served to irritate the leader. Regardless, Megatron continued to humor him. 

At the suggestion Clicker quirked a brow. “Why would I do that?”

“In my timeline they were...close. I think. I could never really tell, but considering he and Thundercracker followed him into the pits they must’ve been _ something _ . Air mates, for sure. I’m going to check on Skywarp’s progress later before we head off for battle, I can ask for you if he’d be up for something like that.”

Clicker stared warily at the commander. “Yes, I would appreciate that,” he mumbled over his glass, never taking his eyes off Megatron as he took a sip. 

 

* * *

 

“Oh, Screamer?” Skywarp sneered, seemingly surprised anyone would ask about him. 

Skywarp was one of the first soldiers they’d captured and they’d managed to grind away most of his artificial programming and reach the surface baring his personality. He was nearly as insufferable as he was in Megatron’s timeline, but the lack of war, trauma, and Decepticon influence had certainly left a noticeable difference compared to the Skywarp Megatron was familiar with. 

“So you’re familiar with him,” Megatron clarified. 

“Yeah, he was our commander,” Skywarp adjusted something on the table beside his berth. Straightening it so it was perfectly in line with everything else. “There’s no use trying to deal with that guy. They’ve wrecked his mind so much he’s not ever coming back.”

Megatron took a pause to think. 

“We could have said that about you as well,” he mumbled, letting his thoughts get the better of this mouth. 

“No no,” Skywarp was quick to correct. “I don’t think you understand. I know I was a drone, I know my brain module was messed with, but they  _ destroyed _ his. You see, every once in a while a little bit of self would peak out of the programming, happened to every one of us, and every time that happened to him it was  _ intense.  _ His real self was strong enough to override what they were doing to him,” Skywarp made a face. “Wasn’t pretty watching them drag him off for reprogramming. They basically made him a killing machine with limited speech functions.”

The one good decision they made, limiting the speech function. That Seeker’s voice left  _ everything _ to be desired. It was unfortunate Air Commanders and Seconds needed their vocalizer to work otherwise Megatron would have ripped it out ages ago. The stupid brat deserved it, that was for sure. 

“So...does this mean you’re not willing to see him?”

Skywarp shrugged. “No point...and I don’t think seeing my former air commander will be...good for me, ya know?”

Megatron nodded. “I understand,” he said softly. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” Megatron took a second to look about the room. Everything was spotless and straight in line. Not a speck of dust nor a corner out of place. All objects, few they were, sat straight and in lines, even lengths away. 

Skywarp shrugged. “Formation,” he explained. “Can’t give it up that easy.”

Megatron smiled back at him. “There’s nothing wrong with a little order. I hope to speak with you again soon, I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”

Skywarp smiled. “Thanks. And uh, I know what I said about Screamer but...don’t give up on him okay? He may be harsh but he deserves as much a chance as the rest of us.”

Megatron couldn’t hold in the scoff, it was out before he thought about it. 

Skywarps smile fell. 

“I will see you again soon,” Megatron rushed out, realizing what he’d just done. A second later he was out the door. 

As Megatron stalked down the hallway one single thought ran about his head. 

Starscream. 

And why Clicker seemed to care so damn much about him. 

Granted, Clicker cared about everyone they brought in. It was possible the only reason he seemed to care more about Starscream was because he was the only one willing to play shrink with him. Megatron had tried to explain to him that Starscream wasn’t a bot they wanted back to his “normal” self. That was probably worse than his reprogrammed self. Clicker always seemed to have some snide comment about Megatron’s methods and new found double standards. 

That little bot thought too highly of himself. 

“Skywarp won’t speak to him,” Megatron said as they prepared to head out. 

“Good,” Clicker said stiffly, loading a gun. “That’s probably for the better. Wouldn’t want to set Skywarp’s recovery back any.”

Megatron paused in his preparation. “You knew he wouldn’t do it. Why did you let me ask?”

“So you can keep humoring me like you do. I know you don’t like him, Megatron. I know you’re probably right when you say the “real” Starscream is nothing but trouble. But  _ you _ created the program. You said that every bot deserves the chance of a better life. One he  _ wasn’t _ built for,” he looked to Megatron. “Even the worst of them.”

Megatron’s expression remained stony. 

“You do not know Starscream like I do.”

_ “Do _ you know him?” Clicker stood to join the other troops. “Seems to me your fists got to know him better than _ you _ did.”

Megatron scowled at the bot. What did he know? One could accuse Megatron of many things, but Starscream was, is, and always will be a scheming, paranoid, hate filled,  _ menace _ . Everything Megatron dealt him was  _ deserved.  _

And nobody could ever tell him otherwise. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Megatron carefully nursed a minor shoulder wound with a cold pack over the bandage. The battle had not gone well, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Enough casualties had been avoided and no one had lost their life that day. That alone made it a good day. 

The mission was to bring more bots back to the facility, as well as capture one of the Cold spark storage units long enough to get the sparks out of there. It would take them a while to make enough bodies for the sparks but as long as they saved those innocent lives from being thrust into war and being reprogrammed against their will, no waiting period was too long. 

Clicker came to sit in the medical berth beside Megatron. The bot just stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for Megatron to address him before he addressed Megatron. 

“Yes?” Megatron asked slowly, wondering what the little bot was up to. 

“I need your help.”

Megatron sat up a little straighter, curious now. “With what?”

“You’re not going to like it,”

Megatron never liked beating around the bush. “What is it?” he practically spat, getting impatient. 

“I need you to help me with Starscream.”

Megatron immediately scoffed, turning his head away. “Absolutely not.”

Clicker leaned forward slightly. “You’ve dealt with this frame before. We just want to give him a shower.”

Megatron huffed, looking back to the bot. “And you expect _ me _ to help you with that? You must be delusional. Just knock him out like you always do!”

“We’re trying not to do that.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“I’ve had three guards refuse their duties and one who got severely injured. But you know how to stop those claws from touching your armor.”

“I will have no part in this futile effort of yours. I told you to just let him rot in that cell, and this is exactly why. He’s a menace. The only thing that’s ever done any good keeping that brat in line was a good slagging, why do you think he has so many scars?”

Clicker scowled. A second later he leaped from the berth. “I can’t stand to hear you talk like this,” he scowled. “You’re condoning their actions. It’s despicable. You can’t stand for some and not all. If you can’t get your head in order I’m kicking you out of the program.”

Megatron glared. “I created the program!” he raged. 

“Yes,” Clicker said stiffly. “I recall you telling me something about another thing you created,” he began to walk off. “And just how well it worked out for you.”

Megatron scowled at that wretched bots back. He really  _ did  _ think too highly of himself. The things Clicker  _ didn’t _ know greatly outweighed the things he  _ did _ . Yet the bot was insistent upon bringing up Megatron’s follies whenever the argument served him. How could he not see that Starscream, treated or otherwise, was just a danger? Back to his normal self he was likely to topple the resistance, and in this state he attacked everyone that came near like some caged animal. One that should be put down. 

Megatron stood from the medical berth, scowl still set deep on his face. For now he would have to continue to get along with the mech. As insufferable as Clicker could be he was one of the leaders of their movement and Megatron had to play nice with him. This wasn’t Megatron’s world, after all, not really. Different rules applied. The battle was different. These bots weren’t soldiers yet Clicker had managed to lead them almost successfully for a number of years. For that Megatron had some respect for the mech. 

This, though, what he was doing, it was infuriating. Enough to make Megatron dismiss any of his partner’s authority. If Clicker wanted to get torn up trying to deal with a ravenous Seeker, so be it. Megatron wasn’t going to have any part in it. 

As he stalked out of the med-bay he paid a glance and a wave to some of the soldiers who were laying on med-berths recovering. Megatron knew almost everyone in the facility, trying to right one of the wrongs during his leadership of the Decepticon cause. During the war he had thousands of followers and he knew the name of about a dozen of them, not including the combiner teams and some of the seekers. 

In this new world, in this new battle, Megatron made it a point to get everyone’s name. Speak to them. Assist in their recovery however he could. Beside’s Starscream the only other bot Megatron had been hesitant to approach was Skywarp, but he quickly doused his prejudices to make way for helping a bot in need. 

Clicker liked to bring this up to him and ask about why he did that for Skywarp but not Starscream. Of course, no answer Megatron ever gave to the question was the right one, and Clicker went on judging. There was just no winning with that bot. 

As Megatron walked past the hab-suites he couldn’t help but notice the ruckus coming from one of the rooms. Quirking a brow he paused, moving forward slowly as he went to investigate which room it was coming from. The noise was coming from behind the door only a few paces away. Megatron immediately recognized it as Starscream’s suite, having implanted the location of it deep in his processor so that he could avoid it at all costs. 

After a sneer and an eye roll Megatron, curiosity getting the better of him, put an ear to the door. It sounded as though the room was being ransacked and he could hear a few voices asking what was likely a routy seeker to calm down. The effort was futile, of course, as Megatron knew better than anyone that when Starscream was having a fit there was no listening to reason. 

Megatron huffed a throaty sigh. “For pity sakes,” he groaned. Clicker was relentless wasn’t he? That idiot was going to get himself killed if Megatron didn’t intervene. 

Megatron opened the door and closed it quickly behind him. As soon as he entered his chassis was met with the swipe of a particularly sharp pair of claws. Megatron immediately caught the wrist as well as the second before another lash was struck. 

Starscream struggled in the grip, pulling with all of his might. He whined, and screamed for a time before he tired himself out and looked up at his captor with pleading eyes. 

Megatron snarled at him. “Where do you want this?” he asked Clicker, ignoring the seeker and the only other guard in the room. 

Clicker crossed his arms with a scowl. “I thought you wanted no part in this.”

“Just tell me where you want him!” Megatron snapped, not having the patience to deal with condescendence

Clicker sighed, dropping his irate facade. “In the wash racks.”

As soon as they started to move Starscream began to struggle again. He made a noise that seemed to be trying to sound like the word ‘no.’ The look in Starscream’s eyes as they moved closer to the wash wracks was a terrified one. 

Megatron growled in frustration as he pulled the seeker towards the shower. Eventually Starscream just let his body fall limp, making it more difficult for Megatron to pull him. 

“Oh, you little brat!” Megatron raged, doing his best to drag the infuriating Seeker. Stupid Clicker his incessant insistence upon helping this nuisance.  

In one quick move Megatron released the wrist and hauled the seeker over his shoulder. Starscream growled and snarled like some snared animal. He tore at the lines in Megatron's back, leaving a nasty set of claw marks on Megatron's already injured shoulder. 

Megatron quickly dumped him in the wash racks, not giving the creature time to recover before he was out and shutting the door behind him. 

As soon as it was safe Megatron shot a glare to Clicker. “are you still so determined to help him?” He spat. “he's nothing but a monster and he’ll never be anything else.” 

Clicker scowled at him. “they made him like that. It doesn't mean he can't be helped.” 

“There's nothing left of a real bot in the fried processor if his. You can dig for as long as you like but you will  _ never  _ find anything better than a brain dead menace.” 

“He doesn't like to be touched,” Clicker spit out quickly. “he's afraid of us, he's lashing out because he's scared.” 

Megatron scoffed. “yeah right" he muttered. “you really expect me to believe that?” 

“He can't communicate,” Clicker spread his arms out. “just look around you. This is the only way he has to communicate with us. There’s  _ a  _ Starscream in there  _ somewhere.  _ Whether he's anything like the Starscream you knew has yet to be determined. There are tweaks in his programming, little details like how he’ll answer questions.”

Again Megatron merely scoffed. “Nonsense,” he mumbled. “In the three weeks you've been working with him that's  _ all  _ you've gained? Sounds like a wasted effort.” 

Clickers lip twisted in dissatisfaction. “I think you should leave,” he dictated. “Before you hurt him or yourself any more than you already have.” 

“Don’t you still need my help?”

Clicker didn’t answer. Instead he went over to the wash room door and pressed a button on the entry panel. The whisped sound of running solvent erupted from behind the door. As did and indignant screech that was all too familiar to Meagtron’s audio receptors. 

“I think we’ve got everything under control,” he said, seemingly unphased by the horrid sound of Starscream’s pained and angry wails. 

Megatron’s brow furrowed. “What are you going to do when you need to get him out?”

“Why do you care all of a sudden?”

“I don’t care about  _ Starscream _ , if that’s what you’re thinking,” Megatron clarified, crossing his arms. “I’m concerned for  _ your  _ safety, strange as that may seem.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been in worse tussles than this.”

Megatron ‘humphed.’ “I’m sure you have.” he didn’t believe that for a second. Maybe Clicker had been blown up a couple dozen times, and had probably received a few good punches to the face, but in a real ‘tussel’ he was practically useless. That’s why Megatron gave him a big gun and a lot of bombs. 

Ignoring Clicker’s stamina, Starscream was a formidable opponent for anyone. Even in this bad shape Megatron assumed anyone would have a difficult time out maneuvering or out shooting the bot. After all, the council aimed to create an unstoppable killing machine with the mech. The only thing that ever stood in Megatron’s Starscream’s way was the tiny bit of a conscious he seemed to possess every once in a while. If it could be called that. It was more impatience and selfishness than conscious. That and himself. 

This Starscream. This was nothing but a drone. He was borderline machanimal. Megatron couldn’t see his lack of acceptance of the bot as brought by mere prejudice, but also by the thought of wasting time and energy on a bot who simply couldn’t be helped. 

Or at least, that’s what he tried to convince himself of. 

With a deep scowl Megatron turned on a heel and left the hab-suite. There was no use staying where he wasn’t wanted. Nor did he have any use staying in a room with a bot who only ever served to ignite a deep, once burnt out rage in the former warlord. 

Why did Starscream do this to him? What was it about that face?

Though...it wasn’t quite the same face. 

No. 

This Starscream, the new Starscream, his frame was not new. Never had he worked to hide or repair the damage done to him. The vanity that Starscream had wasn’t there. Welt marks and scars etched near every inch of that seekers frame, and the grime and scorch from battle and disgusting barracks held tight to his bright red plating, to the point that it almost seemed a shade darker than it was. 

Even the bots face was marked. Small, dark gray scars flecked about around his lips. The thin dark lines trailing his eyes were replaced with thick, crude, dark gray etchings, contorting the normally sharp prettiness of his features. There was one small scar across the rim of his nose, and another just above his left brow.  

Every Cold Constructed bot they brought in was marked in some way. Many were branded, some were marked with scars, but that was rare. Apparently it took a lot to put Starscream ‘in his place.’ Like they had everyone else. 

A wild thought hit Megatron square in the head. It was so sudden, so odd, and so new, that Megatron stopped in his tracks, feeling as though he’s just gotten hit by a train. A strange feeling grew from the pit of his tanks. One he vaguely recognized as regret and...sympathy. As if having pity for the bot wasn’t bad enough. 

Megatron shook away the feeling. Of all the bots that deserved his sympathies, Starscream certainly wasn’t one of them. 

Though then again, from what Megatron could see, his Starscream and this Starscream were hardly comparable.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“I think you should talk to him,” Clicker suggested before taking a sip from his cube. 

Megatron paused. “Now why in the world would I do that?” 

“He talks about you a lot.” 

“Does he now?” Megatron indulged in a sip of his own cube before setting it down on the table. “What could he possibly have to talk about?”

“He’s curious as to where you come from and what he’s like over there. He also wonders why you hate him so much.”

“Hmph,” Megatron grunted, thinking over the matter before granting an answer. After another long swig from his cube, emptying it, Megatron spoke. “There’s nothing in this world that would get me to talk to that harpy, and you can tell him that,” Megatron stood. “But don’t tell him why I hate him.”

Clicker lifted a brow. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t need to know.”

Because it was petty and useless and Megatron knew it, but he also knew what happened to him every time he saw that damn face or heard that damn voice. 

“We’re having a session later today, a couple hours from now. If you suddenly change your mind, I really encourage you to stop by.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Believe me I’m not.”

 

* * *

 

Clicker sat down across from his patient with something of a slump. “Good afternoon Starscream,” he greeted with the most pleasantness he could muster. It had been a few days since they’d forced the bot to cleans himself. It was more trouble than simply turning the water on. After Megatron left the guard and Clicker worked to scrub down the violent Seeker. In hindsight it probably would have been better to just knock him out, but it had already been a month since they brought him in and they really needed to get out of that habit. 

All that work and the Seeker didn’t even appreciate it. It wasn’t like some of the other Cold Constructed bots where their minds were too locked up to recognize that they were being helped. No, Starscream  _ actively _ hated his captors, and actively didn’t appreciate them giving him a shower. 

Scrubbing away the grime and soot had revealed a whole new layer of scars along with the bright red of his plating. It was hard to give a Cybertronian scars, their healing protocols were too good. Granted, it was easier to give a Cold Constructed bot scars, but it was still quite a feat. To see so many was terrifying, not to mention unsettling. The council hard  _ tried _ to give these to him. They made an active  _ effort _ . It angered Clicker, and he wished it would anger Megatron just as much. 

Clicker placed his datapad in his lap before asking Starscream the same thing he did at the beginning to very session. “How are you today?”

“Is the gray one coming?”

“Megatron. And no, he doesn’t want to see you. Why is that so important to you, Starscream?”

“He knew my name.”

“I know that. Why is that so significant to you?”

“He knew my name.”

“Do not many people know your name?”

“My name is a curse,”

“...hm,” Clicker jotted that down. “Why do you think that, Starscream?”

As Starscream had done once before his entire demeanor changed to that of a full blown drone, and he recited. “To be a Starscream is to be a burden upon your unit. Do as he says not as he does.”

Clicker could almost hear the click in Starscream’s mind as he slumped back into consciousness, appearing winded. Clicker gave him a moment to recover before throwing out the next question. 

“Do you know what they’ve done to you, Starscream?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what they’ve done to you?”

“Yes.”

Clicker waited for him to elaborate. It didn’t seem as though it was coming any time soon. It was time to rephrase the question.

“Starscream, what did they do to your processor?”

“They reprogrammed me accordingly.”

“Accordingly in reference to what?”

“What they wanted.”

Clicker thought on the answer. 

What _ they  _ wanted. 

It was a conscious answer, Starscream knew that what was done to him wasn’t right, nor was it what he wanted. It further cemented Clicker’s belief that there was a  _ real  _ Starscream in there somewhere. It was difficult to speak with the bot, he may have had many of his own thoughts but due to the limited speech function he couldn’t communicate what he knew, or his frustrations. They came out on the walls, etched in by claws.

“What did they want?”

“They wanted to create the perfect soldier.”

“Did they?”

“Yes.”

Clicker readjusted himself in his seat, shifting a bit and crossing his legs. 

“Starscream, why do you attack us every time you see us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it you doing it, or does something else take over?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Are you scared of us Starscream?”

“Yes.”

“Now why is that?”

“I want to see the gray one.”

“That’s not an answer to my question Starscream. Do you not want to talk about it?”

“Yes,” Starscream answered faster than he ever had, keeping has gaze off his counselor. 

Clicker stared at him with thought. It was probably best to end the session there. 

“Alright then, I think we’ll be done for the day.”

Clicker stood from his seat. For a moment he just stood there, staring at the seeker. A thought crossed his mind. One that was utterly crazy, but if it worked would be utterly worth it. 

Clicker took a few steps forward until he was standing right in front of Starscream. The Seeker still wasn’t looking at him. 

Clicker undid one wrist. Then the other. 

When the restraints fell free Starscream’s head shot up, but he didn’t move. For a moment they just stared at eachother, Starscream’s expression soft with surprise, or at least something similar. 

Clicker moved towards the door, boldly turning his back on the Seeker as he left, locking the door behind him.  

As soon as he was gone Starscream looked back to his wrists. He rubbed them a bit, wiping away the feeling of being touched. After that had been taken care of he moved the chair he’d been forced to sit in to the corner of the room where it lived most of the time. After that he turned out the light. 

The room was much more comfortable in the dark. There he sat by the wall etching where he left off. 

His processor glitched out words that he carved into the wall. Starscream retreated into himself, searching for something. 

Or really, someone. 

Someone who showed his pretty face once in a while and screamed. Screamed to be released, carved vulgar words into the wall in protest as his body sat sad and dormant, unphased and unwavering. 

Primus, what Starscream wouldn’t give to  _ speak _ . Words and thoughts constantly caught in his throat, desperate to reach the surface, desperate to be heard. The only thing he ever managed were screams and incoherent noises. Sometimes when people let him speak he slipped out. The real Starscream, the one so utterly familiar but so far away. 

Starscream knew who he was. He had his own thoughts and ideas. The torture of knowing they were there but being unable to access them was worse than anything the council had done to him. Whipped, burned, cut, and scarred. None of it even compared to the pain of knowing he couldn’t touching something he held. 

So he etched. 

And etched and etched, until the walls were filled. Hoping, praying to Primus, the god who hated him, to be merciful enough to end the suffering. Whether by setting him free.

 

Or letting him go.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Megatron awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his berth. For a moment he looked about the room in a panic, not remembering where he was or where he’d been. It all came back in a matter of seconds, the memories of everything that’d happened in the past year trickling back into his mind as the fear and panic dissipated into the dark.

A hand came up to rest on his head, easing the small bit of panic brought on by a bad dream. If one could call it a dream, it was really more of a nightmare. They had been occurring more often recently, whenever Megatron laid down for recharge. It was always something about the war. Though, it wasn’t quite his experiences during the war. It was more a reimagining, what it was like being on the other side of his tyranny.

This time he had been one of his own soldiers. Looking on in terror as the movement they were so desperate for morphed into a blood bath lead by a delusional war lord. Whenever he tried to speak his voice seemed distant, and whenever he spoke out of turn, or dared question his leader...himself-- There were consequences.

It was a fusion cannon shot to the chest that woke him up.

Knowing he wasn’t about to go back to sleep Megatron climbed from his berth and began the morning duties. After cleaning himself up some he made his way to the medical bay to check on some of the new patients, see how they were doing, make sure everyone was comfortable and doing well.

Next he did a perimeter check with some of the other early risers. Once all was clear he went back inside the facility to fill out and look over reports from their last raid. They’d managed to bring in one hundred and twenty two sparks from the storage unit they captured a couple weeks prior. Casualty count was low, one life lost in their last battle. The funeral was being held the next day, Megatron made sure to make a point of marking it to attend.

By the time Megatron finished looking everything over, including where they would strike next, it was nearly noon. By now everyone was awake and the facility was bustling with activity. Workers who couldn’t fight were building weapons, bots were going to their therapy sessions, bodies for the new-sparks were being built, and spies and infiltrators were going out and coming back in.

Megatron tried to keep real battles at a minimum, but sometimes it was the only way to get ahead of the functionist council. He still believed in the power of words, it had served him well before, but the council was beyond saving. They did not listen to reason. They were too caught up in their own self righteous notions to see that what they were doing was inherently immoral. Not only did they force prejudices among their people, but they also forced conformity within the system, through the use of Mnemosurgery, among other things. People with so much power and so little regard for life were nearly impossible to reason with. Megatron saw very little reason in trying. The best he could do was bring in people on the ground. Forged grounders with “useful” alt-modes. They were more likely to be reasoned with.

Some, they still could not. But Megatron tried to bring as many into their cause as possible. One they’d managed to integrate into their system was Cerebros, a brilliant little brain surgeon who wasn’t blind to the cruelty of their government and so decided to join Megatron’s side instead of taking advantage of the ignorance.

That was who Megatron was going to speak to when he finished all of his work. Cerebros worked on any bots who required their speech function to be turned back on manually. There were occasions when he’d act as one of the therapists, but for the most part he was there when other volunteers weren’t sure how to go about unlocking that which Mnemosurgury had tucked away. Being a processor expert Cerebros was a very useful little bot to have.

When Megatron arrived he found Clicker had beat him there. There were two reasons for how this could have happened. Either Clicker just got there early because he could.

Or he was there to ask about a certain someone Megatron would rather not think about.

“Clicker,” Megaton greeted. “Good to see you come early for once.”

Clicker merely eyed him for a moment before speaking. “I was just asking Cerebros here if there was a more effective way we could be treating Starscream,” he explained, knowing fully well that Megatron didn’t want to hear it.

“What?” Megatron mocked, coming to stand beside the bot. “Your brilliant strategy not working?”

Clicker scowled. “Unfortunately the damage done to his processor is to  _ traumatizing  _ and  _ extensive  _ that merely chipping away at it with words isn’t enough. It’s such a mess in there even Starscream can’t find the real Starscream.”

“I don’t imagine any Starscream has ever found a  _ real  _ Starscream,” Megatron muttered, fully intending for Clicker to hear.

The little bots scowl deepened. “Have you ever thought it’d be better for you to keep such gross close minded comments to yourself, or does your hatred often override your good decision making?”

Megatron narrowed his eyes at the bot but said nothing. Even he could admit when he was beat, even if it wasn’t with words.

The two feuding bots looked back to Cerebros who now stood sheepishly before them, tapping his fingers together.

“Should-- Should I go? Or do you still want a progress report?” he asked hesitantly.

Megatron’s expression softened. “My apologies, Cerebros, please, continue.”

The tenseness fell from Cerebros shoulders. He turned and lead them past the lab and to the recovery area where a couple of bots were recharging on medical berths. “As you can see we’ve had a lot less patients than before. As usual the procedure is very simple, and very safe. Safest one you can do, actually. I’ve noticed though,” Cerebros pulled a file from a cabinet set at the end of the room. “That more and more bots are coming in with their speech function switched off through the use of Mnemosurgery,” he closed the file and just held it as he spoke, concern laced deep into his tone. “I-- I’m having a hard time treating everyone. And cases are getting exponentially more difficult to deal with. The Mnemosurgury is getting heavier, some have had parts of their brain module removed entirely. I just can’t keep up with operations as well as telling people how to deal with deep threaded reprogramming. I’m running out of solutions,” he reopened the file and studied it for a moment. “Some of these things I’ve never even heard of before,” he looked back to his leaders. “If I could...make a suggestion?”

“If you propose we use Mnemosurgery-” Megatron started immediately.

“No no,’ Cerebros interrupted. “That’s no solution. I wanted to suggest that you...capture their brain surgeons. It sounds ridiculous I know! But...they’re more advanced than I am, their methods aren’t only getting more dangerous but they’re also more effective than my own. I’m confident in my abilities, I can operate on these bots but...with limited resources and new methods being put into play eventually my skill will become obsolete.’

Megatron quirked a brow. “You’re suggesting we eliminate the source of the problem,” he clarified. “Infiltrate their facilities and eliminate the people doing this to these bots,”

Clicker and Megatron exchanged glances.

“Do you truly believe one risk outweighs the other in this case?” Clicker inquired.

Cerebros shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I haven’t hurt anyone yet, and I...well I can’ say I doubt I will, I don’t _ know _ . All I know is that if they keep up with the resources they have then there will come a time when I won’t be able to operate  _ at all _ .”

Again Megatron and Clicker exchanged a glance. “We will think it over, Cerebros,” Megatron said. “Thank you for keeping us updated. We’ll do what we can to ensure your continued work.”

Cerebros nodded. “Thank you, Megatron...I want to do everything I can.”

“That is all we can ask.”

With that Megatron left, leaving Clicker behind. Apparently he still had more to discuss with their resident brain expert. 

 

* * *

 

“Starscream is an extreme case,” Cerebros explained. “I honestly can’t think of anything to do other than talk to him,” Cerebros explained, taking a seat at one of the work tables in his lab. “The best I can tell you is that it seems as though everything that was done was done with needles.”

Clicker quirked a brow. “Why is that the best you can tell me? I could have guessed that.”

“Well, it means everything that’s happened is reversible without Mnemosurgury.”

“I don’t follow,”

Cerebros placed something under a microscope before explaining. “You see, when a processor get that- _ jumbled up _ , it tends to create a failsafe for itself. As more programming is added or taken away the processor will create something to combat the invasion. It sort of makes a backup copy, if you will, which can generally be switched on with some sort of trigger.”

“So you’re saying he probably has something like that screwing around in his brain?”

Cerebros shrugged. “From what you’ve told me...I can only assume, of course. This is all theory I’m working in.There’s no guarantee it exists, and even if it did it’s almost impossible to activate.”

“Why’s that?”

“The trigger is created from the inside. It can be something significant, or something completely random that was fed into the programming. There’s just no telling. You could say every word in the dictionary in every language and still not hit your mark.”

Clicker thought on the matter. “Hm,” he huffed. “So you’re saying I just have to get lucky?”

“If it exists at all, essentially...yes. You’d just have to be lucky. And the failsafe doesn’t always work, either. It could be missing things, it could just add to the mess instead of getting rid of it. A whole slew of things could happen, wrong or right.”

“Picking away would be a better option then?”

“For now, I’d say it’s your  _ only _ option.”

Clicker stood in thought for a moment before turning on a heel and heading to the door. “Thank you Cerebros,” he said on the way out. “You’ve given me a lot to work with.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was another week before Megatron and Clicker officially made the decision that infiltrating the facilities, for now, was not a risk worth taking. They couldn’t spare a single ounce of manpower, and as long as Cerebros continued to do his job they saw no reason to risk anyone’s life on capturing the mnemosurgeons working for the council. As long as they continued to remove sparks from the council's clutches, their efforts were enough. The less sparks they had, the less mnemosurgeons would be required. 

It was a heated argument, though in the end both came to an agreement. Afterwards they assured Cerebros that they would do their best to provide for him everything he would need to continue doing his work effectively. The young bot was disappointed, and worried, but could not argue with their reasoning. For their support he thanked them and assured he would continue to do his best. 

Once the news was broken Megatron and Clicker were prepared to go their separate ways. 

“I think you should stop by today,” Clicker said as they started down the hall. “To the session. Starscream is still talking about you.”

“Let him talk,” Megatron scoffed. “I’ve already told you enough, I want nothing to do with him or his recovery. Can you not respect that?”

Clicker rolled his eyes. “I am not forcing you to do anything,” he dictated. “I am merely making a suggestion. If I’m being completely honest, I’m curious.”

“About?”

“About what would happen if you paid him a visit.”

“I don’t think I understand your meaning. I’m not special, or anything, he doesn’t even know me.”

“Hm, funny how you say that,” Clicker muttered. 

Megatron scowled down at him. “What’s so funny about it?”

Clicker shrugged a shoulder. “The implication. If he doesn’t know you I assume you don’t know him, yet, this entire time you’ve been treating him as though you do know him. So I found it funny.” 

At that Megatron sneered, but said nothing. Technically Clicker was right. That didn’t make Megatron feel inclined to admit it. 

“How have you been?” Clicker asked, changing the subject. 

Megatron lifted a brow, slightly suspicious at the question. “Why?” 

“I’ve been thinking,” he looked up at Megatron. “That this evasion you have isn’t born purely out of prejudice. I mean, it is, certainly. There’s no doubt in my mind. But there’s something more there isn’t there?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“No,” Clicker stopped, stepping right in front of the larger bot. “It is something I need to concern myself with. You’re on my turf, you are among my people, and you weren’t always the peace loving “peace through tolerance” leader that you are now. You enjoyed what you did to him, didn’t you? Your Starscream.”

Megatron scoffed, shoving past Clicker. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s nonsense.”

Clicker had to jog to catch up. “Is it?” he challenged. “You were a bloodthirsty warlord for millions of years.”

“That is not my past,” Megatron snapped, stopping to turn to the smaller bot. “Not here. You want to keep throwing it in my face, fine! I know what I’ve done, and I will not do it here. Never again. I am not that mech.”

“Then why do you keep acting like him when you see Starscream? That’s what this is about, he is a piece of you past that you can’t let go of.”

Megatron scoffed. “Starscream means nothing to me.”

Clicker sighed, placing a few frustrated fingers on his forehead. “You’re so thick headed,” he muttered. “But you can’t possibly be this stupid.”

Megatron rolled his eyes. Again, Clicker was thinking himself to be more informed than he was. 

Clicker let his hand fall to his side, and appeared to be thinking before speaking. 

“I know how I come off,” he started in a more neutral tone than before. “But I’m not so uninformed, and I’m not blind. Starscream makes you angry, that face switches something in you, doesn’t it? Something you don’t really like.”

Megatron remained silent, thinking about what was being said and just how right it was. 

“If that’s the problem then fine, I’ll stop asking. But that’s the sort of thing you need to tell me, so I can prepare for what could happen. I cannot be sensitive to something I do not even know exists.”

Megatron looked over his shoulder. “You’ve become quite the shrink, haven’t you?”

“Against my will I’d say.”

Megatron turned fully to the bot. “Starscream and I had an interesting relationship. He hated me as much as I hated him, for good reason. That is one part of my past I hoped to never see again.”

Clicker took a step closer. “But he isn’t a part of your past.”

“Yes, he is.”

“No, he’s not. Not this Starscream. I can’t imagine they even look alike.”

Megatron was tempted to roll his eyes. “alike enough,” he grumbled.  

Clicker appeared to be thinking again. “I was under the impression that you wanted to right your wrongs.” 

“I do.”

“Then why won’t you right this one?”

Megatron stared past his nose at the smaller bot. “This is not a wrong worth righting.” with that he took his leave, stalking down the hallway away from his co-leader. There was no more he had to say on the matter and Megatron was not about to pull an explanation out of thin air. If he had something to say he'd say it. But he had nothing more to say. 

 

* * *

 

Clicker, with new information in hand, had been paying closer attention to the words written on the walls when he came to do Starscream’s session. Every word had been carefully recorded and meticulously repeated. Words that had been written multiple times were excluded after their first reading. Primus was talked about, as well as the seekers, and the council, and Starscream himself was mentioned a few times as well. The phrase that popped up the most, besides the vulgar language was “I can’t find it.” 

Clicker could not help but wonder exactly what the Seeker couldn’t find. Most of their sessions began and ended with phrases and words being read off in a mechanical manner. Clicker felt desperate, and frankly a little stupid, sitting there reading off a dictionary to Starscream as he sat slumped or stalk upright like a drone. 

What Clicker was surprised to find out, however, was how expressive Starscream was. Clicker had never taken the time to study the seeker during their sessions, at least not physically. Starscream made many facial expressions. He bared his teeth and twisted his lip and squinted his eyes. Nasal ridge sneered and eyes popped open with surprise. Despite the lack of free thought that could be heard it was easy to see the gears turning in Starscream’s head. Wings flicked and lowered, flapped and hiked up in a show of emotion. How emotive the Seeker ended up being was genuinely surprising, and further proof that there was more there than met the eye. More there than could be merely heard. 

Once Clicker got tired of reading off words and waiting for a response he lowered the datapad to his lap and took a moment to just stare at Starscream. Clicker noticed how the seeker seemed distracted, lost in his own head and staring off into nothing. 

“Starscream,” he called, grabbing the Seeker’s attention. “Have you been listening to me?”

“No.”

“I’m trying to help you. Do you know that?"

“No.”

“Do you think I’m not trying to help you?”

Starscream gritted his dentia. It appeared as though he was in pain, trying to fight himself. “No,” he eventually spit out, battle apparently lost as he slumped in his chair. 

Clicker jotted something down. Starscream was beginning to show more resistance to his reprogramming. It was a good step. 

“Starscream, what is it that you can not find?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it yourself?”

“I don’t know.”

‘I don’t know’ was a common answer. Clicker had come to assume that “I don’t know” was more of an automated response, made to fill in for questions the council never wanted answered. Clicker suddenly had an idea. 

“Starscream, if I let one of your hands free will you swipe at me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Clicker stood. “I suppose it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Do you have full control over your system functions?”

“No.” 

It was very possible an answer was “for the most part” but Starscream could only give so many answers. Clicker unbound one of Starscream’s wrists. To his slightly surprise Starscream did not swipe at him. Instead he stared curiously at the wrist as if waiting to see what Clicker was doing. 

“There is a type of speak that is done through the hand. However, it involves the other person touching you.” 

Starscream immediately drew his hand away, suddenly looking more terrified than curious. Eyes locked onto Clickers face. They scowled before Starscream swatting at the bot. Clicker got a few good claws to the arm. It was then that he decided to end the session. With a hand clamped over his arm Clicker unintentionally scowled at the bot. “We are done for today.” 

 

* * *

 

Megatron eyed the bandage clamped over Clicker’s arm as he sipped at his cube. 

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled, lowering his cube. “You are quite stubborn, aren’t you?”

Clicker stopped mid sip. “Not as stubborn as you I’m sure.”

“You were stupid to let him go of his restraints.”

“The last thing I need from you is a lecture.” 

They sat in silence again. Once Clicker’s cube was empty he lowered it to the table. “He still wants to see you.”

“Haven’t I told you enough-”

“He’s started writing your name on the walls.”

At that Megatron paused. Then he scowled. “So what?”

“So he’s trying to communicate. I hope, once you’ve recovered enough, that you’d consider seeing him.” 

“I doubt I'll ever feel inclined to do so.” 

Silence fell over them again and it remained until they parted. 

 

* * *

 

Clicker, the next evening, was getting nowhere. Starscream, when asked a question, would simply answer with “Where is the gray one?” 

It was frustrating to say the least. Eventually Clicker slammed his datapad into his lap and scowled at the seeker. One hour they'd been going at it and not a millimeter of progress had been made. 

“Why is this so important to you?” Clicker asked after taking a deep vent. 

“He knew my name.” 

“Yes, but why?  _ Why  _ Of all things is  _ that  _ so important? What do you hope to gain from seeing him!?” 

Starscream's stoney expression fell. His gaze averted to the floor. “He knows me.” he said quietly, quieter than Clicker had ever heard. 

At this Clicker lifted a brow, thinking over the answer. “You believe he knew you before you were...this you, don't you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hm,” Clicker considered it. “I hate to disappoint, but the only You he knows is someone who is very different. Megatron will be of no help. The You he knows is from a different dimension. Completely unrelated. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” 

Clicker could see that Starscream wanted to say more. His throat clenched and unclenched, pushed by invoiceable words. Clicker wanted to hear more. 

“Starscream, what is your favorite color?” 

“Tell me about him.” 

“Tell you about who?” 

“The other Starscream.” 

Clicker shrugged. “I don't know, I could always ask Megatron. Do you want me to do that?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright I will then.” 

Clicker checked his chronometer. An hour had already passed and the troops were probably just headed into the arsenal to prepare for going out. To have this raid so close to the last slightly uneased Clicker, but he remained confident in his battalion’s abilities. 

Before he left, however, Clicker had one more question to ask. 

“Starscream. Do you want to fight the functionalist Council?” 

The answer didn't come immediately. For a silent, painful moment Starscream sat wincing and squeezing his eyes shut, head slumped over his lap. His frame locked up and talons dug into the arm of the chair. As soon as this began it stopped. Starscream eased in his chair, wings falling flat behind him while sharp claws retracted from the chair. Starscream's hung head slowly forced itself upwards in a sinisterly calm manner, and the seeker locked his eyes on Clickers. From his lips slipped a smooth, harsh, and definitive. 

 

“Yes.” 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“No,”

“And why not?”

“Because he’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not saying now. I’m talking about when he’s recovered more.”

“When he’s recovered more he is not to be trusted. You’re just talking crazy.”

Clicker had to jog a little to get ahead of Megatron and stop him in his tracks. “Can you imagine the progress we’d make if we had a group of Seekers on our side? Raids have become less and less successful, and casualty rates are growing! We need everyone we can spare.”

Megatron leaned down slightly. “Would you feel so inclined to throw Skywarp back into battle? Or Dirge, or Ramjet? This isn’t about making soldiers-”

“But if they want to fight we should let them.”

“Starscream doesn’t want to fight,” Megatron scoffed, standing up straight. “He just wants to kill.” 

“He  _ does  _ want to fight. Not us, but them. He doesn't  _ want  _ to fight us but his reprogramming forces him to.” 

“You can't really be so foolish. He's using you to get away and go on a killing spree. The thing he was  _ made  _ for.” 

“You're being so contradictory! You say he's capable of manipulation yet your claims fall back in his implanted programing!” 

Megatron scowled at the statement but didn't comment. Clicker continued. “You weren't there. You didn't see the way he had to fight himself tooth and nail to say what he meant. I've asked him if he likes killing, he told me he doesn't enjoy killing those who haven't wronged him. I asked if he wants to fight the council and he said yes! Do you have any idea what an enormous step that is!?” 

“And have we not wronged him?” Megatron shot back. “We’re on his bad side.” 

“You're not paying attention to the important detail,” Clicker scowled. “And you're doing it on purpose. Starscream was programmed to never defy the council. To answer how  _ they  _ want him to answer. This shows he's becoming capable of free speech, albeit limited. And not only that but that he wants to fight on our side.” 

Again Megatron scoffed. “Fight on our side? Don't be fooled, as soon as he's finished with the council he’ll turn his claws on anyone he pleases.” 

Clicker practically growled. There were so many things he wanted to say, none of which were pleasant. Instead he doused the anger and held his glossia and took a moment to think. Something Megatron was apparently incapable of. 

“You are not the only one making decisions here.” Clicker started calmly “If this hasn't ended by the time he's recovered enough, I am sending him to fight. Only if he still wants to,” he shot Megatron a sharp glare. “You're right, this isn't about making soldiers. But if Skywarp, or Dirge, or Ramjet or  _ Starscream  _ want to fight their oppressors, then we damn well let them.” 

Megatron scowled, but thought on the matter. “We will see.” he rumbled, shoving past the bot and continuing his stalk down the hallway. Clicker watched as he walked away, determined not to follow. That was, until a thought struck him. “Megatron,” he called, halting the co-leader in his tracks. Megatron glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something else,” gradually Clicker began to make his way over to the larger bot. “I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to tell me about your Starscream.” 

Megatron furrowed his brow. “Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. 

“Starscream wants to know about him. I think that’s part of the reason why he wants to see you.”

Megatron turned sharply to the bot. “The only thing you, or that cheap knock off need to know about my Starscream is that he was a lying, scheming, manipulative glitch, who got everything he deserved. He couldn’t go ten minutes without stabbing someone in the back, and he was arrogant beyond his own comprehension. My Starscream was a menace, and a monster,” Megatron turned on a heel away from the bot. “Just like yours.”

 

* * *

 

Clicker didn’t want to have a session. Frankly he almost never wanted to have a session. But Starscream was making progress, and no amount of frame fatigue or headache would stop him from doing the session. Clicker waited patiently outside the door until the ruckus stopped and the bigger bots stepped out, eying him as they went. Their frames were marked with the distinct pattern of Starscream’s claws. 

Clicker scowled back at the larger bots. He knew they hated him for making them go in there, and Clicker could rest assured he’d have to recruit two new bots for the task tomorrow. Once they were passed Clicker slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. Starscream was seated in his chair, wrists bound like they always were. Clicker’s seat was placed across. As it always way. 

With a sigh Clicker took his seat. “Good evening Starscream, how are you today?”

“The gray one.”

“Is not coming today. Though he did tell me a few things about his Starscream,” Clicker mumbled. “Though nothing useful, if I’m being honest.” Clicker looked up from his datapad. Starscream was staring at him with intent, as if waiting anxiously for him to speak. For a moment Clicker almost felt bad. What he had to say wasn’t what one would call positive. Clicker pushed on. “He told me his Starscream was a lying, manipulative, arrogant, monster,” he spit out, watching Starscream carefully for a reaction. To his surprise he got one. Any anticipation melted away. Starscream’s wings drooped and his head bowed a little, as if all the hope had been sucked from his spark. 

Clicker’s spark felt a little heavier in his chest. The feeling suddenly dawned on him and he quickly shook it off. “Monster,” he repeated, reading it off his datapad. “Do you think you’re a monster, Starscream?”

“Yes.”

“Is that the council speaking, or you?”

“...it’s me,”

That answer came as a surprise. Clicker wanted to see if he could get it to expand. “Why do you think you’re a monster, Starscream?”

Starscream’s claws dug into the arm of the chair. “I kill people.”

“Why do you kill people?”

“I can’t stop myself.”

“Did the council make you this way?”

“...I don’t know.”

That one sounded genuine. A sudden curiosity fell over Clicker.

“How old are you?”

“I am twenty five stellar cycles old.” 

Clicker’s spark felt as though it stopped in his chest. 

Twenty five. 

The bot before him was twenty five years old. Not even fifty. And the council had already damaged him so much. Possibly beyond repair. Clicker scowled. If anyone on that planet was a monster, it was the council. 

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Clicker said quietly. “I think the people who did this to you are the monsters,” he looked up from his datapad. “What do you think?”

Starscream didn’t answer immediately. It didn’t appear as though he was fighting himself. It almost looked as though he was thinking. “I think,” he started slowly. “Monsters. Can create monsters. It doesn’t matter who created who. They both remain monsters.”

After the answer they sat in silence. Clicker was about to say something when Starscream’s body began to seize. His entire frame stiffened and his optics nearly shattered out of his head as he began to violently shake. 

“Starscream?!” Clicker called, flying from his seat. Starscream continued to spaz until one of his eyes blew out and smoke began to pour from his vents. Clicker stared on in terror. 

“Medic!” he called, flying from the room and activating his comm. “I need a medic!!! Someone!!” he called desperately. A few bots came to his aid, but as soon as they heard who was in trouble they excused themselves to go find someone else to help. 

Starscream had become somewhat notorious. 

“No!” Clicker called to the last few bots. “Don’t run away you cowards!” with a throaty and exasperated sigh Clicker ran back to the room where Starscream was still shaking. The seizing seemed to have stopped but his frame was still smoking. Carefully Clicker approached. “Starscream?” He took a knee before the chair in an attempt to get a better look at his face. 

Heavy vents heaved the seekers chest up and down. 

“Starscream?” Clicker asked again. 

Starscream shot him a sharp glare, red eye blazing. He snarled and lurched forward, trying to tug his wrist from the restraint. Clicker jumped back, nearly falling on his back but catching himself with a hand. Starscream eased back into the chair, his eyes squeezed shut as he visibly tried to fight himself. 

Clicker sat up a little more, keeping a close eye on the seeker. When the battle appeared to be won Clicker spoke. “Starscream. What just happened?” He asked boldly, not expecting much of an answer. 

Slowly Starscream turned his head up to look Clicker in the eye with his one remaining. 

“They- fixed. Me.” 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“I can’t fix him,” Cerebros said right off the bat. “It’s too deep.”

Megatron and Clicker were in the lab. Reclined in the examination chair before them was Starscream. His head was opened up and his processor had been plugged into with a whole array of wires.

“What is “it” exactly?” Clicker asked, crossing his arms. 

“Honestly? I can’t tell. From what I can see on the scan it’s a chip. A tiny, tiny, chip implanted in his brain meant to rewire or “reset” whenever he gets too close to consciousness. Or at least that’s what I assume activates it. Removing it would require taking apart the entire brain module and putting it back together,” Cerebros shook his head. “I don’t have that kind of skill, and even for those who do it’s much too risky a procedure. One wire out of place could leave him brain dead.”

“It’s like implanted mnemosurgery,” Megatron said, rubbing his chin with a finger. “As if the needle were always there.”

Cerebros nodded. “Essentially yes.”

“Is it possible to shut it down?” Clicker asked. “Can his own internal programs override it’s systems?”

“I have no idea. This is technology I’ve only ever seen in theory. Without the actual device in front of me for me to inspect I can’t tell you anything.”

Clicker stared at the floor in thought. His finger tapped his elbow as the corner of his lip drew up in consideration. “So we have to start over. Trial and error.”

“It could take years before you make any progress.”

“I’m willing to spend those years.”

Megatron scoffed. “Don’t waste your time. Just put him in stasis for now until we can get everyone sorted out.”

“Ignore that order,” Clicker shot back.

“No. Follow that order. Starscream is much too dangerous in his original state to be allowed in the facility.”

Clicker turned to his co-leader. “If you would just be patient-”

“We don’t have time for patience,” Megatron snapped. “As soon as we finish treating all those who are actually tratable, then we can revisit this case. But for now, Clicker, it is in out best interest to put him in stasis.”

Clicker pointed a sharp finger at Megatron. “You just want to get rid of him.”

“You’re right, I do. But not out of bias, out of reason. Starscream is unpredictable. For all we know the council is using his eyes! You should have put him down the moment you captured him.” 

“We were making progress.”

Megatron rolled his eyes. “Two months and less progress than any other bot in this facility. By now we would have been able to activate normal speech function but you couldn’t even do  _ that _ .”

“His case if different,” Clicker spat stiffly. “He needs more time and care.”

Again Megatron scoffed. “You think you’re capable of “care” or that he’s deserving of it? Don’t kid yourself. We’re putting him in stasis and that’s the end of it.”

Megatron turned on a heel and stalked towards the door. In the threshold he turned to them. “If I don’t see that bot in a stasis pod by tomorrow I’m doing it myself,” he warned. With that he was gone, leaving Clicker and Cerebros alone.

They looked at eachother. After a moment of thought and scowling Clicker sighed, letting his face fall. “Follow the order,” he said in a dead, disappointed tone. “I’ll see what I can do in a month.”

“It will take about a day for his processor to reboot so we can move him,” said Cerebros. “I’ll place him in a pod then.” 

Clicker nodded slowly. “I’d like to be there when you do. Comm me when it’s all ready.”

“I’ll be sure to.”

Clicker started the descent towards the door. Before the threshold Cerebros called to him. 

“Clicker?”

Clicker quirked a brow, glancing just past his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for him.”

Clicker turned his gaze forward. “Yes,” he muttered. “I am too.” 

 

* * *

 

In the dead of the night, when guards were just beginning to switch their shifts, and informats were sneaking out of their barracks to give information to the resistance, Starscream remained seated in the examination chair. Claws dug into the arms, and the wires still stuck out of his open head. 

A red eye popped open, illuminating the room. 

Starscream sat up. He unceremoniously tugged the wires from his brain, and untangled himself before standing up. Bits of a conversation he’d missed flew about his processor. 

Stasis. 

They wanted to put him in stasis. 

A voice screamed at him not to let them. To escape. Now was his chance. That voice had awoken him. It had sat him up, and now helped his legs carry him through the facility. On wobbly knees he walked to the door. It was locked. Without the patience to try a code Starscream dug his claws into the lock and dug out the wires until the door slid open. 

There wasn’t anyone in the hallway. 

The voice screamed at him. “Escape! Escape!” but a little feeling nudged at the forefront of his mind telling him to kill. Mangle those who had imprisoned him. Eliminate the resistance with his own two hands. 

But the voice yelled louder than the itch. And Starscream continued on his way. In the corridor he scratched the walls, leaving a long trail in his wake. His pedes shuffled. 

Starscream was looking for someone. The gray one. The gray one could hear the voice. He could hear Starscream screaming at him, and finally set the voice free. 

Starscream wanted to speak. Desperately he wanted to speak. The day before he’d had a taste of freedom. A tiny taste, torn away from him before he could take a full bite. He wanted that back before they locked his body away, and he would be trapped in the prison that was his own mind. Already he had almost no freedom, Starscream was not about to let them take away what little freedom he had. The freedom to move. To fight. 

Those words on the wall were all he had. 

A little spark knocked his processor. The chip had activated again. Starscream’s frame heated up. His joints locked and he began to seize. 

Fixing him. They were fixing him. That was what they always called it. “Fixing” as if they weren’t the ones who’d broken him. 

Sparks broke the seams of Starscream’s head as he pushed on. 

The gray one. He had to get to the gray one. 

Almost there. Only a few hallways away. 

Starscream paused to let his mind reboot after the forced resetting. Again the screams shoved him back to his feet and pushed him forward. 

He tore the keypad from beside the Gray ones door so that it slid open. Once inside Starscream stood there. Fingertips felt numb. One of his claws had been chipped at the tip from all of the tearing and scratching. He rubbed it with his thumb, feeling the blunt edge. 

What a feeling. 

For a long time he just stood there. There was no light but that from the recharge slab, illuminating they gray one’s face. He laid still, soft vents and the hum of energy filled the room. It was peaceful. 

But the peace, as usual, didn’t last. 

Starscream took one step. And Megatron awoke. With a small gasp he sat up, his eyes popping open. His gaze fell immediately to Starscream. 

Starscream wanted to run. Something nudged at his processor. The itch told him to tear out the old slaggers throat. He’d seen too much. The voice, however, screamed at him to stay. Not to kill like a coward. 

Frustrated Starscream dug his claws into his forehead, scratching the itch and silencing the voice. If only for a moment. 

Megatron hadn’t moved. Though when Starscream looked back a him he signaled for the lights to come on. As soon as Megatron saw the Seeker’s face he leaped from the berth and closed the door. 

“I don’t know what you’re doing here Seeker,” he spat. “But I’m going to put you back where you belong.”

Starscream turned to face the gray bot. This was wrong. This was not how this was supposed to go. The voice offered no help. Nor did the itch. Nothing told him to fight or scream or claw, he just stood there frozen and wide eyed. And for a moment he wondered- was this fear? 

Yes. It was. 

Megatron grabbed Starscream by the wrists, and that’s when he started fighting. He snarled and whipped his head around, struggling helplessly in the grip he found himself in. The blood from his self inflicted wound splattered onto Megatron’s wrists and chest as Starscream flung his head about in protest. His hands flexed in the grip, his claws just barely scraping Megatron’s wrists. 

Starscream was terrified. The itch told him he was stupid. Stupid to have tried such a foolish thing. Did Starscream really think that someone who had treated him with so much malice would ever help him? What an idiotic concept. Suitable for a Primus damned Seeker. 

Megatron said something. “I’m not about to struggle you anywhere,” he groaned, scowling down at the seeker snarling at him. “But I know where to put you for now.”

Megatron shoved Starscream into the wash wracks and shut the door. As soon as he was down Starscream flew forward, hitting the door just as it closed. His claws dug in but the thick metal was too much to get through. 

It was dark in the wash wracks. 

From the other side of the door Starscream could hear Megatron making comm to someone. He was angry. Furious even.

But Starscream couldn’t concentrate on that. His concern was on his current location. The wash wracks was a dangerous place. Solvent had not been Starscream’s friend. From pouring boiling solvent on his wings, to tricking him into acid showers, the Council had managed to deter him from such a place. Such a place was dangerous. 

Starscream stayed huddled at the door. 

There he etched into the metal. Leaving more than vulgar swears. 

 

* * *

 

Clicker was furious. And in turn Megatron was furious. 

“You locked him in the wash wracks!?” the smaller bot raged. 

Megatron roared back. “How did he escape in the first place!?” he pointed to Clicker, “I’m pinning this on you!”

“How could you possibly lead this back to me!?”

Megatron crossed his arms. “Don’t think I’m not aware of just how much you disapprove of my last order regarding the Seeker, Clicker.” 

“You really think I’m dumb enough to let someone as dangerous as Starscream wander the facility!!?”

“Oh, so you do realize he’s dangerous,” Megatron huffed, as if he’d just made a point. 

“Of course he’s dangerous!” Clicker raged, stomping to the wash racks. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve the right to treat him like some kind of animal.” 

Megatron turned more to face the bot. “What are you doing?”

“Getting him out of here,” Clicker shrugged. 

“By yourself?”

“Do you see anyone else?” he held up an injector. “I should be able to give him a sedative without getting hurt too bad.”

“You’re joking,” Megatron scowled, crossing his arms. “I know you’re not this stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid, Megatron,” Clicker said, looking just over his shoulder. “There’s no one left to do it. No one will help me anymore,” he looked back at the door. “And frankly, I can’t blame them.”

Before Clicker could touch the keypad Megatron put his hand over it. “Fine,” he spat. “I’ll help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” 

“Well too bad. You’re getting it. If you go in there alone you’ll be killed. I’ll hold him down, you inject. Then you get to haul him out of here. Ready?”

Clicker sighed. “Ready,” he said, sounding less than enthusiastic.

Megatron opened the door. Starscream came tumbling out at Clicker’s feet. Clicker didn’t even have to try, while Starscream was floundering he injected the sedative into his neck. It was fast acting so Starscream didn’t even get a second to fight. 

“Well,” Clicker vented. “Thanks for all the  _ help  _ Megatron. I’ll be hauling him out of here myself like we agreed. Right into the stasis chamber, as you  _ demanded.”  _

The last word was spat with malice. Megatron just scowled at the smaller bot. Clicker took Starscream under the arms and began dragging him towards the door. 

Once there he took a short break to readjust his grip on the Seeker. Megatron, at the point, rolled his eyes before stalking forward. He unceremoniously grabbed Starscream and hauled him over his shoulder. Without a word he stomped from the room and through the facility. He made his way back to Cerebros lab. The little scientist was startled when Starscream was deposited haphazardly on an examination table. 

“Take care of this,” Megatron demanded bluntly before exiting the room. On his way out he passed Clicker who merely scowled at him. Megatron ignored the smaller bot. None of this was anything new. 

 

* * *

 

Megatron was informed the next day that Cerebros had decided to hold off on Stasis until he could properly shut down Starscream’s processor. It was such a mess he wasn’t sure if putting his mind in stasis was even an option. But removing someone’s mobility without seizing their mind was cruel and Cerebros refused to do it. 

Megatron could accept that. As long as Starscream stayed locked up and out of the way. He had been moved back to a cell, one located in Cerebros lab so the scientist could continue to work on him without having to move him. 

Cerebros had voiced to Clicker, though neglected to tell Megatron, his reservations when working on a bot such as Starscream. A bot who had already been plucked, prodded, and experimented on enough. It felt wrong. Clicker would often encourage Cerebros to continue with the work he was doing. The end goal was giving a suffering bot some good rest. Cerebros convinced himself that was enough. 

Megatron ignored the issue for the most part. Two days after the Starscream incident Megatron was reading a report as he walked through the halls of the facility. On the journey he heard the hum of motors coming from one of the rooms. Curious he peeked his head into the open doors. It was Starscream’s former room. 

People were working sanders, taking the words off the wall. Clicker stood in the middle watching. Megatron approached the smaller downtrodden bot. 

“We’re getting it ready for others to move in,” Clicker said quietly, weakly gesturing the walls. “We already have a patient picked out to take it. But first we need to buff out these words. No one could fall asleep to this.”

Megatron watched as everything was rubbed away. All of the etchings were being erased. Everything Starscream ever had to say gone with the swipe of a sander. It was almost a shame, and Megatron considered saying something. But he found he had nothing to say. Megatron did a very good job of convincing himself that there was nothing salvageable left in Starscream’s processor. 

“It’s better this way,” Megatron muttered. 

Clicker stood up just a little straighter. “Better for who?” he muttered back. 

Megatron didn’t respond. He had nothing to say. So instead he just left, leaving Clicker to mourn on his own. 

Megatron made his way back to his room where he finished reading the report before retreating to the wash wracks. It had been a while since he’d had a shower and grime was building up in his seams. They had the luxury of running solvent in the facility. They stole it from underground reservoirs and the council's own supply. Showers were required to be short to preserve the resource.

Megatron quickly rinsed himself. He scrubbed some of the grime from his helm and brushed off the scorch marks. The shower lasted about five minutes. He turned off the solvent and turned towards the door. What he saw there made him pause. 

Megatron cocked a brow. 

There on his door, towards the bottom, were words etched by all too familiar claw. Curious Megatron took a knee and looked closer. They were a few lines of speech. It read like a dialogue. 

“He knows”

“He doesn’t”

“He does!” 

“You are a fool.”

It said. Megatron found his curiosity piqued. The words were obviously left there by Starscream, and it was he most coherent thing he’d etched into any of the walls he’d marked. Megatron wondered who “he” was and what he could possibly know. For a moment Megatron considered the “he” to be himself. Starscream had come to his room. He asked for him nearly every session. 

But Megatron didn’t know anything about this Starscream. 

Instead of lingering on the thought Megatron decided to take a picture of it and give it to Clicker. The bot was so interested in Starscream, let him figure it out. Megatron, in the meantime, went back to his report. Trying desperately to purge any thought of Starscream from his mind. 


	9. Chapter 9

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

The black and grey one huffed.

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

The black and grey one stood from his chair and gathered his things. He walked to the other side of the room and began again there.

Only a moment later he stomped back over.

“You know, I don't like this anymore than you do,” He said. He stepped away from the bars and began pacing. “I don't want you in there, you're not some caged animal. I know that,” he paused. “I know that.” The pacing continued. “but I'm a former towerbot still trying to prove his worth to the big bot and I know that if I let you out of there you'd kill me,” he stepped up to the bars again.

“You’d kill me, right?”

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

“Probably.”

The black and grey one went stiff. He stepped even closer to the bars. “What did you just say?”

“Probably.”

The black and grey one stepped away. He turned around and put his finger to the side of his head.

“Clicker! Big news, big big news.”

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

 

* * *

 

“Has he done it again since?” Clicker asked, sitting cross legged in front if Starscream, watching his pose.

Cerebros shook his head. “no. And I've been asking him nearly non-stop.”

Clicker hummed. “maybe we haven't been asking the right questions,” he muttered.

“I asked if he was going to kill me if I let him out.”

“Yes I know,” Clicker rubbed his chin.

Cerebros squatted beside him. “probably. That sound like self awareness to me.”

“What he does isn't necessarily what he wants to do.”

“I thought we already knew that.”

“It's never been clear. Because he's never been able to answer like this.”

Cerebros stood up straight. “I could be right then,” he muttered.

Clicker looked up at him. “what?”

Cerebros rushed to his desk. “I had a theory,” he said. “but I thought it was stupid. But now, the more I think about it, taking into consideration Starscream's more recent behavior-” he presented a datapad for Clicker to look over.

“Remember the chip in his head?” Cerebros asked.

Clicker nodded, “Yes, I remember.”

“Remember how I said I'd only ever seen it in theory?”

“Yes. But obviously they've implemented it in some capacity. What am I looking at?”

“Records,” Cerebros took the datapad back and began flipping to places for Clicker to read.

“It's subtle. Very subtle. But I've noticed some behavioral differences. And I have a theory.”

Clicker read it over, looking closer this time.

“From what I've read,” Cerebros said. “which, granted, isn't much compared to what exists, I've found there's a fault in the system they were attempting to create.”

“Which would be?”

“The chip is meant to “fix” a bot, reprogram it back to what the council wants it to be. But the chip itself, the technology itself, is meant to reset a bot’s mind. Now, the council can make it so the reset default is the programming they created. They can wire that in as the original. But the chip is its own entity. And it has, will always have, the potential to reset a bot’s mind to its original setting. The setting it was born with.”

Clicker paused.

“So it didn’t work,” he said. “it did the opposite of what they wanted it to.”

“It's only a guess. A good guess. But these things are unpredictable. Even if it did reset him his brain is so friend from the surgeries-” Cerebros shook his head. “he might never be the same.”

“Well Cerebros, he’s already not the same,” Clicker stood from where he was kneeling on the floor. “now if you'll excuse me I suddenly have a meeting with our co-leader.”

 

* * *

 

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Do you remember the last time we moved him from a cell to a room? Nothing good. We're not doing it.”

“You're just being an aft.”

“No. I'm being sensible. Thinking clearly. Unlike you, evidently.”

Megatron moved the datapad he was signing on to the next and signed another.

Clicker scowled. “I'm tired of this belittlement, Megatron. You're not the only one giving orders-”

“And if we were to go against each other what we’ve built will fall apart.”

“You've fought me on this every step of the way. I didn't want to put him under, you did. I didn't want to keep him in a cell. You did. I wanted to give him treatment. You didn't. I've tried asking, Megatron. But if you're not going to do anything then I'm on my own. This is out of your hands.”

Megatron huffed. “fine,” he spat, not even looking at Clicker. “make your own mistakes, I don't care.”

“You won't fight me anymore?”

“Do you want me to?”

Clicker didn't answer. Instead he left, abandoning Megatron in his makeshift office.

Megatron very rarely spent time in his office. He only ever looked over plans and sighed death certificates. Nothing he wanted to he doing. It was a dim place, preserving what little energy they had. Megatron scrubbed a hand down his face and filed the datapads away. With his hand in the cabinet of his desk he pulled out a small pile of datapads.

With a sigh he began flipping through the files.

Fifth Cycle: Day 7: he has exhibited some out of sorts behavior as of late. When I ask him questions he responds calmly and respectfully. On top of this he has stopped writing in his cell. Developments to be monitored.

Fifth Cycle: Day 10: today he seems confused. But has exhibited no signs of anger or aggression. He looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. But thinking maybe he had. Developments to be monitored.

Fifth Cycle: Day 15: today he wrote on the walls. Just a few words, like a conversation. Developments to be monitored.

Megatron rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He held his head and read over the reports he’d read a hundred times over.

Changes. There has been changes since that night Starscream broke into his room. Starscream had woken himself up from sedation and removed the monitors from his head. He’d walked about the facility on his own and didn't harm a soul. He didn't seem fit or ready to fight when he fell out of the wash room.

It was all very obvious.

Megatron groaned. He rubbed his forehead again and turned off the datapad. Leaning back in his chair he tossed it to the center of the desk and just stared at it.

Starscream had been a mistake. Taking him on as a soldier, a second command. Though, had he been left as a foot soldier Megatron may not have gotten some of the victories he had.

But what were those victories worth now? The Decepticons lost the war. And the war Megatron knew did not exist in this world. Or at least not yet. What did that mean for Starscream? Megatron sighed. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. He put his lips at the edge of his clasped hands and stared at the datapad on his desk.

“The war doesn’t exist,” he muttered to himself.

Megatron stood from the desk. He didn’t bother to put the datapad back in the drawer. He stalked to the door of his office, his thoughts still reeling

“So-” he muttered quietly to himself. “Neither does Starscream.”


End file.
